From the Start
by 34G13
Summary: Ash/Thermite one-shots. Might form a storyline. Not sure yet.


Almost Close

* * *

It was cold in Rainbow's hometown. It always was, in stark contrast to California and New Mexico, where Eliza had spent much of the past few months. She had pulled the hood of her dark blue hoodie over her head to combat the chill, but the jacket was a bit too light to be effective. Her left hand was stuffed into a pocket, and on occasion, she would try to tuck her right hand away, too, only to be reminded of the sling her right arm was trapped in.

She had only walked a few blocks, but the chill was thorough by the time she reached the tavern. The lounge on base would have sufficed her desire for a stiff drink, but alcohol wasn't the only reason she had gone out. As Eliza pushed open the door to the tavern, she scanned the open area, and saw Jordan sitting at the bar, exactly where she expected him to be. Her intentions – this whole play, the whole reason for coming to the tavern – were completely out of her character. She considered turning around and just heading back to HQ, but her body was on autopilot, already pushing into the establishment. She felt wildly hesitant as she crossed the room, but did not show even the slightest hint of it.

Jordan spotted her out of the corner of his eye as she neared. He looked up from his phone, rested on the bar, with a gaze that seemed to say he expected her too.

"Well, look who it is," he said. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in Oregon?"

"Just got back," Eliza replied, sitting at the bar which was all but empty, except for the two of them. "Dropped my stuff at HQ. Was feeling a bit… I don't know. Winded."

 _Damn it,_ she thought. _Too much. Too soon. Damn it._

"I think I'd be more concerned if you weren't," Jordan said, taking little notice of what Eliza perceived to be an emotional dump. "I mean, spend a few weeks in New Mexico, fighting fucking _zombies_ , and not a second after we'd begun teardown, you jump on an emergency flight to solo a terrorist stronghold in Oregon? That's a real good way to get yourself shot, by the way," Jordan said, his words laced with sarcasm.

"God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?" Eliza asked, though the question wasn't really directed at Jordan.

"What did I say? I said, 'You should probably take someone with you.' I said, 'You're exhausted, honestly, you should probably send someone that hasn't been squatting out here in hell for the past few weeks, but if you insist, you should at least take someone with you.' I said, 'If you don't, you're going to get yourself shot, Eliza.' You didn't take anyone with you, and what happened?" Jordan asked, his entire posture opened up towards the embarrassed Rainbow operator. She simply stared down at the bar in front of her with no intention of responding.

"No? Alright, I'll answer. _You got yourself shot._ " As if to punctuate his remark, he picked up his half-full glass of whiskey, finished it off, then slammed the glass upside down on the table, raising his hand to signal the bartender for another. There was a tense silence between the two until his drink arrived, which he proceeded to down just as quickly.

The bartender just stood by in anticipation. He'd seen this act before.

"What are you drinking?" Jordan asked Eliza, still silent, and redder in the face than normal.

"Not really in the mood," she replied, swallowing her pride to even respond.

"Oh, bullshit, Eliza," he said. "Two double whiskeys. Neat." The bartender walked off to prepare the drinks.

It didn't make her feel any better, but Eliza could tell Jordan was in need of the same thing she was seeking. She knew he came to the tavern for the same reason she did. She knew he did every time the team went through a stressful enough period for Six to give them time off. The seeming verbal abuse, the sarcastic humor – that was just his way of blowing off steam. Eliza had seen it all before.

The two had been… _almost_ close. They had only met on occasion when working solely with the FBI, but when Rainbow was reactivated, they were among the first picked by Six, and they were there to act as unofficial leadership. They worked very closely together – whether it was training, leadership, off duty activities (which included many nights of intoxication in the very same seats they sat in now) – naturally, they formed a bond.

Then came the attack on Bartlett. The realities of their duty set in. They became busier than they had ever been in their lives. Slowly, the bond dissolved. There wasn't exactly animosity between the two, but they both had very strong personalities, and the more they treated each other like colleagues, the more they seemed to clash.

All this was exactly why Eliza had picked tonight. She wanted someone to talk to. She wanted a real interaction, and she had already swallowed a gallon of pride to accomplish her goal. For the next few weeks, there was no work. There were no missions, nothing to lead, nothing to coordinate – just time to relax.

She _knew_ Jordan was thinking the same thing.

The bartender returned with their drinks, setting them down in front of the two, then walking off. Jordan took a reserved sip of his. Eliza simply stared at hers.

"Can I ask you something?" He finally said.

"Sure," Eliza replied, bracing for more abuse.

"You were in California, right? Nice, relaxing SWAT training? How did you even hear about the pandemic?" She calmed herself the best she could before responding.

"I took some time every morning just to look over news. It's a habit I developed after Bartlett. Looking through headlines. Making connections that usually don't exist. Staying informed." She paused, reached for her drink, and took a sip, struggling to deal with the burn. It had been a while since she drank straight, hard liquor. "I saw the story about the meteorite. All the locals reporting bright lights in the sky. Didn't think much of it, until another story a few days later about a hospital that had been quarantined due to an unknown sickness. I requested leave and drove out to New Mexico with some SWAT friends who were headed in the same direction." Her drink was still in her hand, and she took another, somewhat larger, sip of it.

"So you thought, 'Hey, let's go check out goddamn zombie land. That sounds like fun.'"

"It's our duty, Jordan," She said, her face beginning to redden with anger this time. She actually looked up to him as she spoke, starting to get angry with his commentary.

"No, this was all you," he said, turning to face her, as if he was challenging her. "This shit didn't even cross Six's desk until you called her up. You're the one who went in and thought, 'Hey, all these SWAT teams got massacred, but Rainbow is equipped to deal with this!' If the world had ever seen a legit zombie outbreak, this was in, and you walked the fuck right in and dragged us into hell with you."

"What the fuck is your point, Jordan?" Eliza almost shouted, having had enough of his sarcasm.

"I just want to emphasize that you're fucking crazy," Jordan said. Eliza had raised her left hand to retort, having to swivel her whole body around to face him, since her right arm was trapped by a sling, nursing the bullet hole she'd effectively self-inflicted. She was hot with rage, about to fire back with an insult of her own, but at the last second, she caught a change in Jordan's gaze. There was a certain softness among his perceived anger that enabled her to hold back. It took every ounce of her will, but she kept quiet, waiting for him to say something – something she really hoped would back up the slight hint in his countenance.

"You are _fucking_ crazy… but a lot of people – hell, maybe the whole god damn planet – owe you their lives for it." Jordan turned away and picked up his drink, once again pounding it and signaling for another. Eliza simply stared at him, her anger slowly melting away. After a moment, she turned back to the bar, hanging her head as she stared at the intricacies in the wood pattern.

"Like I said… part of the job," she replied softly.

"Give yourself some credit," Jordan said, looking over to her. "You did a damn good job of keeping that shit together."

"I had help."

"Help that would have taken everything in an entirely different direction had you not been there to balance us out. You know what I would have preferred to do. Had you not been at the front of the effort, that city may be a smoldering hole in the ground." Eliza simply stayed quiet for a moment.

"Thank you, Jordan," she finally replied. The Rainbow operator promptly picked up her drink and finished it off, returning her gaze to the bar. Jordan stared at her for a moment, then signaled the bartender for another.

"You said you went in with friends," Jordan asked after a moment of slightly-less-tense silence.

"I lost a few of them. Good ones. People I trained with," Eliza replied. Jordan let the silence hang, hoping to draw more out of her. "It was part of the reason I chose to involve Rainbow. Seeing people that close to me die in such a brutal fashion… They had no idea what they were up against. Thanks to them, we had _some_ idea." Jordan tapped her shoulder to force her to look up at him, then raised his glass towards her. She picked up her fresh drink and lightly tapped the glass to his. The two then downed both their glasses.

"You're going to run them out of whiskey," Eliza said, her heart feeling somewhat lighter after her admission.

"All for a good cause," Jordan replied. "And hey. I'm sorry about your friends. I know we didn't cross paths much, but I still have a few good friends back in California too. They actually helped with some of the schematics for the prototype charges we used in New Mexico. I can't imagine what losing them would be like."

"You still keep up?"

"When I can. They send a lot of stuff. I… I've been busy." It was the elephant between them both. _Busy._

"I know the feeling. I had been with my friends on training for a few weeks before New Mexico." She was quiet for a moment. "At least I got some time to catch up." Again, she stared over to the bar, but she noticed Jordan turn his gaze to her out of the corner of her eye. She turned to match it, and after a moment, she raised her hand, signaling for yet another round of drinks.

"I miss these talks, Eliza," Jordan said, finally hitting the subject they were dancing around.

"How do we let ourselves become so busy?" She replied, shaking her head.

"Protecting the world _is_ a difficult job," he replied. "You and I are sitting at the forefront of it. You might even be in line for Six yourself someday."

"Let's not go there," Eliza replied, shaking her head. For the first time that night, she smiled with her response. It was a genuine, feel-good smile – something else Jordan missed. "While we're on the topic, though… as you said, New Mexico was… crazy. And you stepped up and helped me lead Rainbow through it without hesitation. I wanted to thank you for that."

"Like _you_ said," Jordan replied, lifting his drink. "All part of the job."

"I believe you then told me to give myself some credit," she playfully shot back.

"I'd think you would have learned by now that quoting me isn't the best idea."

"Yeah, I've had to restrain myself from telling others we 'barbecued' a parasitic infection." This time, Jordan smiled as he finished of his drink. Eliza loved to see his smile as well – a genuine, happy expression. She saw plenty of it when he would make a joke or screw with others on the team, but none were like the one she saw now.

"Hey, are you hungry?" he asked, setting another empty glass down on the table. "We've got all the time in the world to just… not think about work. And, all this alcohol is getting to me. You're a bad influence," he said pointing to Eliza.

" _I'm_ a bad influence?" She replied, faking offense. She realized how long it had been since she'd left Oregon, and that she hadn't had much to eat since then. It was right about then that she realized how much the rapid alcohol intake was beginning to affect her as well.

"Actually… yes. Let's go find something to eat."

"Great. I know a little place right up the road."

Eliza laughed. She knew exactly where they were headed as the two got up and exited the tavern.

It was still cold out. She unconsciously locked her uninjured arm with one of Jordan's as they walked.


End file.
